Max and the Snoodlecock

by Zachry Wheeler

  Zoey narrowed her eyes.

  “You know, angry music. Headbanging, mosh pits, an uncontrollable urge to punch your neighbor.”

  She balled her fist and shook it at Max. “You’re about to get punched right here.”

  “Calm down,” Perra said, extending the proverbial olive branch. “No harm done, he’s just a little wonky today.”

  Zoey yanked Max to his feet and threw him into Perra’s arms. “Fine, you babysit him then.”

  Perra sneered at Zoey. “Well aren’t you grumpy today,” she said, then tossed Max back to the floor.

  Ross sighed and started grooming his paw.

  “This isn’t a pleasure trip,” Zoey said. “We have a lot to do and he’s turning into a liability, again. We should have left him on the ship.”

  “To do what? Pick his nose? Break something? I need the extra hands and it’s not like he’s useful by himself.”

  “I’m right here guys,” Max said from the floor.

  “He’s your problem,” Zoey said. “You deal with it.”

  “Fine, I will,” Perra said through a sour gaze.

  Zoey turned for the exit and stomped away.

  “Don’t mind her,” Perra said to Max. “She gets like that when time is a factor. She doesn’t do well with derailment.”

  “Noted,” Max said, then climbed to his feet.

  They resumed their walk, leaving a reasonable distance between them and Zoey.

  “So what is that thing you said ... a mosh pit?”

  “Oh, um, think of it as a swirling fight club set to heavy music.”

  “Sounds dangerous.”

  “Depends on the music.”

  The group exited the tunnel into a massive marketplace brimming with activity. A sea of sentient creatures flowed in every direction. The entire social spectrum churned inside a cauldron of retail. Elegant gowns and dapper suits floated towards posh restaurants. Leather jackets with sling packs and thick utility belts scanned the peripherals for bargains. Strange beasts with curious eyes browsed the colorful wares like tourists at a flea market.

  The giant round room housed shops and boutiques of every style imaginable. Prominent establishments lined the rear walls with large hologram logos hovering above the entrances. A crowded assortment of kiosks filled the center, selling everything from snacks to novelty items. Bombastic merchants in loud attire pestered passersby with the same overhyped sales pitches understandable in any language. They twirled gadgets, pushed samples, and boasted about the latest greatest whatever.

  A web of walkways, tube trams, and elevators connected all the markets. From a general perspective, most customers could locate everything they needed within a small radius. Patrons often chose their docking point based on the rarest item in their list, then acquired everything else from adjacent markets. On occasion, they needed to travel between rings to complete their purchases. If necessary, the station provided a complimentary shuttle service, but for the most part, they docked once and stayed put. Should a curious patron pick a direction and start walking, the shops would start to repeat themselves after a mile or two. Durangoni Station existed as a planet of perpetual trade where if something didn’t exist there, it didn’t exist at all.

  Max wandered through the market in a marveled daze, like a dog trying to grasp object permanence. Widened eyes followed an array of chandeliers hovering along an open ceiling, emitting ethereal tones similar to Gregorian chants. His dangling jaw and rubberneck stare gave him away as a newcomer, not that it mattered. Durangoni Station was a safe harbor, a neutral sanctuary that offered goods, services, and nothing more. In order to safeguard their wealth and reputation, the controlling faction employed a private army that rivaled most militaries in the quadrant. With a stern hand and a watchful eye, they dealt with everything from orbital assaults to shoplifters. In addition, their expansive monitoring system put most galactic casinos to shame.

  “C’mon,” Perra said, grabbing Max by the forearm.

  They rejoined Zoey as she paused to consult her comdev.

  “Do you know where you’re going?” Perra said.

  “Yeah, I think so.” Zoey scanned the area and pointed to a nearby archway. “That passage leads to Courier Corner where the PCDS outpost is located. Maybe we can pick up an extra item or two. After that, I’ll swing by a medi-shop and meet you guys at the nutri-mart below us.”

  “Sounds good. I should be able to find all the parts we need without venturing too far. There’s a big machining warehouse two floors above us. They have a nice selection of converters at decent prices, so I’ll stock us up. Max is going to look for em-panels and flark switches.”

  Max nodded, having no idea what she meant.

  “Good,” Zoey said. “Oh and if you see a—”

  “Zoey Bryx!” said a guttural voice from across the way.

  The group turned in unison. A crowd of dainty tourists parted to reveal a large hairy beast with meaty paws resting on its waist. Bloodshot eyes with red irises stared through a pair of bushy black eyebrows, resembling giant caterpillars caught in a fur trap. A set of stumpy horns poked through a brown mane that disappeared beneath a gaudy leisure suit. Flashy jewelry and a silky undershirt completed the portrait of a mobster yeti. The creature nodded and smirked like it owned a devastating secret.

  Ross cocked an ear. “Who in Tim’s Blue Hell is that?”

  Without a word, Zoey steeled her gaze, balled her fists, and stepped towards the beast.

  CHAPTER 2

  A tiny stealth ship floated outside of Durangoni Station, its dark hull lost in the blackness of space. The round vessel resembled an overgrown eight ball, minus the eight. A narrow slit served as a viewport and glowed with a deep shade of red. A Mohawk of tarnished antennae gave it the unsettling persona of a punk rocker gone to the dark side. Under a veil of silence, the ship pushed towards the station without a spray of thrust or kick of fire.

  The ship sailed by orbital traffic and slipped through a barrier gate like an underage teen ducking door bouncers. Beacon scanners remained silent. The vessel wasn’t there as far as Durangoni was concerned. The station housed one of the most sophisticated security systems known in the ‘verse, and yet, the tiny stealth ship made its bold approach without a care in the world. It dipped and weaved around shuttles and carriers, pushing towards the surface with the stony confidence of a drunken redneck.

  Even gravity seemed aloof to the stealth ship’s presence. It glided through the atmosphere without the glow of entry flame. The pilot opted for a night-side approach, as anyone with functioning eyeballs would wonder why a giant black ball fell from the sky. Once inside the atmosphere, the ship continued to puzzle physics, emitting no sound whatsoever. Hurling itself towards the ground, any reasonable onlooker would assume the engines had failed, dooming the vessel to a deadly thump. However, the ship slowed to a comfortable hover above its target, the slotted doors of a small service tunnel atop one of the central rings.

  The viewport pulsed, commanding the tunnel doors to unlock and slide open. The ship floated inside and the doors closed behind it. The black ball zipped around bends and corners while skirting security sensors with its advanced cloaking technology. It sailed through junctions with the composure of a Pac-Man pro. Lighting strips snapped over the hull like passing floors in a speedy elevator. The vessel dipped, ducked, and dived before arriving at its destination, a maintenance shaft above a central marketplace.

  It exited the tunnel with a gentle drift and floated down to a maintenance pad, slowing to a stop above the surface. The ship locked itself into a magnetic hover without the use of landing gear, just a big black ball defying gravity with a giant middle finger.

  A nearby worker halted a patch weld, turned for its tool cart, and flinched at the sudden appearance of a menacing round ship. The startled creature removed its helmet and plunked it on the cart, rattling the tools on top. A confused gaze probed the dark vessel. Slitted eyes peered through a scaled complexion while a forked tongue tas
ted the air for trouble. Worry gave way to curiosity, drawing the worker over to the hovering ball. It studied the unresponsive ship for a moment before succumbing to irritation. The creature sighed, adjusted its sweat-stained crew shirt, then slammed a fist into the hull.

  “You can’t park here! Maintenance crew only!”

  A sliver of crimson light split the ship in two, expelling a sinister hiss. The worker backtracked a few steps as the top half detached from the base and lifted into the air. Another black orb rested inside, like a Russian nesting doll. A pair of glowing yellow eyes materialized. They blinked and studied their surroundings like a newborn chick before whipping a death stare to the maintenance worker.

  The reptilian yelped and scampered away.

  * * *

  The hairy beast stiffened its posture as Zoey closed in. He lowered his hulking arms, balled his fists, and gritted his teeth with anticipation. Zoey maintained her laser-like focus, her stride heavy with purpose. With a few steps left between them, she lunged forward and buried her fist deep into the beast’s stomach, folding him forward and dropping him to a knee.

  “Barfin’ napkin parka!” the creature said, vomiting every ounce of air inside his lungs. He wasn’t referring to actual barfing napkins or parkas. It’s just what his cursing sounded like in whatever language his brain blurted out.

  Zoey snort-laughed as the beast coughed and wheezed.

  “Where the—cough—bleeding hell—hack—did you learn that?”

  He raised a paw while continuing his intimate study of the floor. Zoey snatched the fuzzy mitt and yanked the beast to its feet. She wrapped her arms around him and giggled like a schoolgirl.

  “It’s so good to see you, Gamon.”

  “You too, girl—cough—I’ll have to toughen up for next time.”

  “That’s nothing. You should see Perra throw a punch.”

  “Who am I punching?” Perra said as she strolled up.

  Gamon let out a hoarse chuckle, exposing nubby teeth inside his plump jowls. He grabbed Perra by the shoulders and yanked her into a rocking embrace. She giggled through a drapery of arm fur, squeezing the beast with all her might. Max moseyed up with hands in pockets and a curious gaze. Gamon’s eyes widened. He released Perra and snatched the human by the face, devouring his head with a hairy palm. Max barked and flailed as the beast conducted a thorough examination.

  “Where did you find an Earthling pet?” Gamon said to Perra. He cupped the back of Max’s head, plunged a finger into his mouth, and swirled it around like an empty pint of ice cream.

  Max gagged and pummeled the beast’s arm.

  “Picked him up on Europa,” Zoey said in a flat tone.

  “He’s in great condition too,” Gamon said while testing Max’s elbow strength.

  “Little help, ple—” Max said before Gamon jabbed his stomach with a meaty finger. Max crumpled to the ground, coughing and wheezing.

  Gamon grimaced. “Kind of weak, though. No matter, their flesh is delicious.”

  Max yelped and sought refuge behind Perra’s legs.

  Ross perked with interest.

  “And who’s the other one?” Gamon said, pointing at the cyborg feline.

  “That’s Ross,” Perra said. “He’s Max’s pet.”

  Gamon donned a puzzled expression. “The pet ... has a pet?”

  “Not a pet,” Max said in a strained voice.

  “Also not a pet,” Ross said.

  “Technically,” Zoey said, glancing away with a twinge of embarrassment, “they’re crew.”

  Gamon nodded with a half-grin and a scrunched brow, as if his face muscles refused to agree upon the conveyed emotion.

  “I’m showing him the greaser ropes,” Perra said. “He and Ross got entangled with us back on Europa. Long story, ended up at Hollow Hold and—”

  “You came from the Hold?” Gamon perked with notable interest. “Big news on the wires, you hear about Halim? He was hiding out there, had a big battle with the Varokins before some wily assassin took him out.”

  Zoey raised her hand. “That was me.”

  “That was you what?” Gamon said.

  “That was me. I shot Halim in the face with my plasma pistol.”

  “You shot—” Gamon morphed between vexation and concern, twisting his fuzzy face into an array of troubled expressions. He scanned the immediate area for prying eyes, then leaned into the group and lowered to a whisper. “We need to talk.”

  Gamon gathered the group and led them to a nearby pub. The beast took point, carving his way through the thick crowd with little effort. Most stepped aside at first glance of the approaching wall of fur. Those that didn’t received a stiff shoulder and the disapproving glare of an orange house cat. Rounding a final corner, Gamon paused to survey the area for any suspicious attention.

  Plain white pillars and steel railings outlined the exterior of the pub. A hand-painted sign with bright alien lettering extended a warm welcome. The group stepped through the entrance one by one and followed Gamon through a near-empty room of rustic tables and chairs. The place emitted a weathered yet cozy vibe, the kind of pub beloved by locals but dismissed by tourists. Dark wood panels encased a slab bar along the side wall, housing a fat amphibious bartender who wiped a glass underneath a haughty expression. He nodded at Gamon as the group passed, conveying the visual equivalent of a secret handshake.

  The group settled into a large mafia-style booth at the rear of the establishment. The table overlooked an open-air garden that spanned five levels of the complex. The vibrant vista bustled with fountains and pedestrians. Exotic trees sprouted from angular potting rows. Thick leafy vines with colorful flowers hung from a suspended trellis far above. The open balconies of numerous restaurants surrounded the garden with the pub resting on the third floor. A dull roar of conversation lifted from the churning crowd, shrouding the booth in privacy.

  Zoey scanned the garden, then turned a sharpened gaze to Gamon. “Okay, so what’s wrong?”

  “Just to be clear,” he said, lowering his palms to the table surface. “You killed Halim.”

  Zoey met eyes with a worried Perra, then returned her gaze to Gamon. “Yes.”

  The beast rapped his fingers and took a needed breath. “Then you’re in danger. Someone has not taken kindly to the death of Halim. Word is, an assassin has been deployed to assassinate his assassin.”

  Zoey’s eyes widened. “I’m a mark?”

  “Looks to be.”

  “Who’s the banker? Nifan?”

  “No. Halim was a pawn. Essien was the prize. Nifan disappeared shortly after the battle. No one has heard from her since.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense. Who the hell would even care? I killed the greatest war criminal that ever lived. I did a service to the universe. Even the Council of Loken gave me a crisp thumbs-up.”

  “No arguments here. Grats, by the way.”

  “Thanks.”

  They bumped fists.

  “Doesn’t matter though. You’re marked and the hit is in play. But, you should be safe for now because no one seems to know who the assassin is.”

  “Who, my assassin?”

  “No, the assassin.”

  “Me assassin?”

  “Yes, you assassin, not your assassin.”

  “So not the other assass—”

  “Stop saying assassin,” Max said with a curt tone.

  “Ass,” Ross said. “... assin.”

  Perra snort-chuckled.

  The front door exploded off its hinges and slammed onto the floor, kicking up a cloud of dust. A handful of customers screamed and darted for the nearest exits. The bartender grunted, tossed his rag onto the counter, and strolled into the kitchen with the urgency of a snack break. A scraggly humanoid at a side table gripped his mug and leaned back in his chair, undeterred by the invasion yet intrigued by the ensuing shenanigans. The group spun their heads in unison and gawked at a giant black blob with glowing yellow eyes filling the doorway. Ross poofed his fur, about-f
aced, and leapt over the booth railing. A tiny fountain splash echoed from below.

  The blob squeezed itself into the pub, its bloated mass wobbling atop a pair of stumpy legs. The floor groaned with every heaving step, like an elephant atop an old hardwood floor. A quick scan uncovered the group in the rear booth. The creature narrowed its gaze and lifted a plasma pistol with its noodly arm. Instinct drove Zoey’s hands under the table and flipped it onto the floor, facing the metal surface towards the blob. The intruder opened fire. Plasma blasts careened off the table as the group cowered behind for cover. Purple streaks zipped overhead, carving through hanging vines and dropping them to the garden floor. The crowd erupted in chaos, fleeing for their lives as plasma fire ripped through the canopy. Screams and explosions echoed around the complex.

  “Fire back for fuck’s sake!” Max said.

  “Neutral station, idiot!” Zoey said. “No guns allowed!”

  “That’s a dumb rule!”

  “You’re a dumb rule!”

  “That doesn’t make any sense!”

  “Can we not do this now?!” Perra said.

  Gamon peeked around the table, only to dodge another barrage of plasma fire. The blob lumbered forward, shaking the floor with each step. Gamon wrapped his palm around the table pedestal and pointed at the railing.

  “Follow the fuzzball. I’ll cover you.”

  Zoey gripped his shoulder and nodded a grim thank you before hooking Max with both hands and heaving him over the railing. A high-pitched scream ended with a belly flop into the fountain below. Perra followed him down and Zoey leapt behind her, each slipping into the water with the grace of Olympic divers.

  With a strained grunt, Gamon hoisted the metal table to his waist. Plasma blasts slammed into the surface as he leaned into the weight and gave charge, tromping towards the black blob standing near the entrance. Sweat poured from his furry brow. Lips tightened around his teeth. A mighty yawp escaped his chest as he barreled into the orb with all his strength. The table bounced off the bulbous creature and clanked upon the floor, tossing Gamon off to the side in an awkward tumble. The fleshy mass, unmoved in every sense of the word, eyed Gamon with an ominous gaze and chuckled like a nightmarish boogieman. It lifted a noodly appendage and pointed at the felled beast, only to discover that the impact had disarmed it. The blob grumbled and scanned the floor for its weapon. Gamon scampered to his feet and escaped out the front door.